


Cold Hands

by Selkie_de_Suzie



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Fluff, Romance, Stricklake - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 10:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13292979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkie_de_Suzie/pseuds/Selkie_de_Suzie
Summary: Tumblr Prompt: In response to your post about Strickler slipping his hands under Barbara's shirt when he kisses her, imagine that one wintery day Walt has forgotten his gloves. Barbara jokingly comments on his stone-cold hands. Walt pauses, and then an evil grin slowly slides over his face.





	Cold Hands

**Author's Note:**

> For Tumblr user Merrypaws!

**Tumblr Prompt: In response to your post about Strickler slipping his hands under Barbara's shirt when he kisses her: Imagine that one wintery day Walt has forgotten his gloves. Barbara jokingly comments on his stone-cold hands. Walt pauses, and then an evil grin slowly slides over his face.**

* * *

 

_“Walt!”_  Barbara tried to wriggle away, but every which way she went, he was there with his cold hands, his fingers going up her spine in icy inches. “Walt, stop - WALTER STRICKLER, YOU STOP THIS  _RIGHT_   _NOW–!_ ” 

“Shan’t,” Walter retorted idly, slipping another hand under her sweater. “You invited this upon yourself, woman, now you must suffer the consequences–”

“I don’t see how making a joke about– _Jesus,_  Walt!–your hands invites you to do something like  _this–! WALT, STOP–!_ ”

Her words became a yelp as his thumb brushed against her breast, the tender point of it peaking against the sheer  _cold_  of his hand, and–

Walter moaned appreciatively as his hands cupped her plush warmth, whether at the heat or in hunger, pushing her bra down so that his palms pushed at the soft swells of her breasts. “Gods, Barbara, but your skin is  _heavenly_ …”

Barbara’s back thudded against the wall, and somehow she managed to wrangle with the doorknob enough to open it and pull him into their bedroom. Slamming the door shut, she quickly set to tugging at the coat and sweater he wore, the snow still clinging to them. “I wish,” she growled between kisses, “that my hands–were freezing cold–so that I could pay you back, you  _jerk_ –”

“It wouldn’t affect me,” Walter retorted in a throaty growl, his eyes already shining amber. His hands slipped to her spine, toying with the hook of her bra. “Having stone as my true born skin has it’s advantages–”

“But it affects me,” Barbara moaned, wriggling against his still frozen skin, her own hands slipping up his spine. An idea suddenly struck her. “So your stone skin wouldn’t be as cold now?” 

It was naturally cool, yes, but if it was warmer than  _this_ –

Walter cocked a brow at her, a strand of hair falling rakishly over his eyes. “No…?”

Barbara grinned and tugged at her own hair, letting her bun loose and shaking it free. “Change for me, sweetheart.” 

A flash of green, and suddenly stone - cool, but not  _cold_ \- was slipping up her spine, teasing along her tenderness…

“You’re so lovely, Barbara,” Walter murmured in now thickened tones, his fangs wrangling each word a growl. His hands dropped away as he sighed, the sound long and gusty. “Would that I deserved you–”

Barbara crushed any further self-deprecation as she caught his mouth with hers, kissing him hard and long, one of his fangs catching on her lower lip. Coming up for air, she then rolled her eyes. “Stop the pity party and put those hands back on me, Mr. Strickler.” 


End file.
